


rainbow's end

by lovepeaceohana



Category: Little Nemo: Adventures in Slumberland (1989)
Genre: Alternate Universe, Gen, Personal Canon
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-01-28
Updated: 2013-01-28
Packaged: 2017-11-27 08:04:11
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 852
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/659680
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/lovepeaceohana/pseuds/lovepeaceohana
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>By the time Nemo comes along, Camille’s bored.</p>
            </blockquote>





	rainbow's end

**Author's Note:**

> Some of my personal headcanon for what Slumberland is and how it works (and doesn't), through Camille's POV. There may be more to come; there is room for this to grow yet.

By the time Nemo comes along, Camille’s bored. She knows the story, she knows the role she is supposed to take. It’s not quite resentment, not yet – it’s just there’s so little _variation_ in how it goes, each pasty-faced boy quite interchangeable with the fellows who came before him.

All right, so, this one shows up in underwear, and with a flying squirrel.

She berates him for a minute, for a change of pace – and isn’t that nice, to hear her voice sound other than simpering and sweet, to hear that ringing condescension and see the boy’s whole face work to better express his astonishment and outrage? Isn’t it fitting? She’s a princess, she ought to be able to do things like this, to have standards her guests are expected to meet.

But no, that is not the point of her being. And she returns to gentle laughter and boundless smiles, a lighthearted fairy princess happy to show a human boy the delights and fancies of her kingdom.

+++

There had been a girl, once.

Camille hadn’t known properly what to do with her; she’d never had a girl before. And this one, her round face smudged and hair akimbo, looked little like the girl-fae of Slumberland. She’d eyed the Rose Room suspiciously, and Camille even more so, before declaring that she would not, under any circumstances, be doing makeovers or “sissy girl stuff.” And Camille had laughed, and laughed, because goodness wouldn’t this suit her right down to her unkempt feet with their short, stubborn nails.

Camille had laughed herself silly inside at the sight of King Morpheus struggling through a coronation of a female heir that wasn’t his daughter – that was why it was meant to be boys, see, because they at least believed that _of course_ the crown would go to them over the king’s own progeny, and the magic kept working. The newly-crowned heir turned to give Camille a look, just the once, during the ceremony. Camille could see her wondering. She was boy enough, she guessed, which was why the magic had let her through.

And she was like all the boys in the end, all too eager to throw herself in with Flip and Flap and make mischief of any kind manageable, and then the business with the key.

She’d wondered long ago why they even had a key like that, why not just be rid of it altogether, destroy it or give it unto the sea if it could not be unwrought? The king had smiled in a way that infuriated her and all but patted her head and sent her away. It was not their place, she _knew_ that, but sometimes she tired of existing solely to teach lessons to humans.

At least the girl had been a change of pace. And to herself only would Camille admit that she’d rather liked kissing her back to waking.

+++

There’s a bit of a hiccup with the next one, or dozenth, Camille’s not bothered counting. This one wants nothing to do with Flip, and holds steadfastly to his key. He perfects his etiquette, takes quickly to riding and archery, glides around the dance floor, and reads through every last tome the librarian offers him when he is doing nothing else. He throws all of Slumberland into a panic, save for his tutors who love him, too caught up in their own spells to notice how all else is blown awry.

Eventually, it is Camille herself who must unlock the Nightmare Door, to move the story forward. She stands there with the key in her hand, its cold weight strange against her skin. Camille’s never even been to see the Door until now, and it is so vast before her, every last splinter radiating dread. Every time, it’s been the boy (or, she supposes that once, the girl) who’s come down here and quickened the darkness that lay beneath all good dreams. Can she do this? Can she step outside of the very matter of her being, outside the magic that churns all of Slumberland?

Terror and a rushing excitement echo each other in her heartbeat, the key in the lock and _turn_ , and the great gears begin to unwind.

She’s tempted, then, to stay, to let the Nightmare take her first. This is a time for firsts, it seems, and the magic has not broken before her daring, the kingdom’s not gone to bits of dream-fluff and fairy dust.

Yet she is not so brave as that after all. The creeping red and reaching black send her scrambling back up the throat of the hidden mine, her fingernails digging hard into the wet grit of the path and her dress filthy and torn. Swift as a zephyr she flees to her own dressing-room, and Bon Bon asks no questions as she assists with Camille’s undress and prepares her bath.

Thankfully she does not have to persuade the boy to rescue her father once King Morpheus is taken, although the matter of who opened the Door is still debated, and this time truly. She keeps her secrets well.


End file.
